


Musical Snapshots

by Zen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Music, My First Work in This Fandom, sam/dean if you squint - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zen/pseuds/Zen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are moments that Dean holds in his memory outside of time, moments that happened in between the hunting, the fighting, the worrying, and the evil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Musical Snapshots

**Author's Note:**

> Tons of thanks to par_avion for the fast and awesome beta! A big nod to Lum over "Refugee", she knows what I mean.
> 
> Originally written March 2007

There are moments that Dean holds in his memory outside of time, moments that happened in between the hunting, the fighting, the worrying, and the evil. Moments that are too pure for him to associate with whatever demon they may have been hunting at the time, because that would take away from the joy of the moment, and completely defeat the purpose. He holds these moments in mind for when he needs something good to hold onto, something to remind him. Not surprisingly, all of these moments have been in the Impala with Sam, and a tape in the deck. He remembers them, hoards them, files them away by song titles.

 

**Refugee** \- It was the ass-crack of fucking dawn, mist and sunlight blurring the road ahead, wet pavement noises from the tires of the Impala cruising at an easy 72 miles an hour filling the car between songs on the tape. Tom Petty’s guitar quickly overpowered the road sounds, and Dean chuckled when Sam started singing along without realizing he was doing it. He glanced over, and Sam’s head was bent over the papers, the breeze keeping his hair out of his eyes enough for him to be able to read. When the chorus kicked in, Sam picked his head up and looked out the passenger window, singing much louder, and smiling. The strain and worry that had made it’s place in Sam’s normal expression melted away, for a moment, Dean saw Sam. Just Sam. No evil lurking, no pain, no loss, no fear, no baggage, just Sam, and it knocked the wind out of him. By the end of the song, Dean had almost worked himself into a guilt-fest thinking about how if he had a normal life, that’s how Sam would always look, but then Sam touched his elbow, asked him, “Remember, I think I was ten, we were in South Dakota and Dad was off on a hunt, but he left the truck behind? I was freaking out because Dad was a few days late getting back, and then to shut me up, you let me drive the truck around the parking lot? I could barely reach the pedals and see out the windshield at the same time. "Refugee" was playing on the radio, hearing it always makes me think of that day.” And then Sam laughed, soft and happy, shaking his head at Dean, who smiled back, and for once said nothing.

**Rock You (Like A Hurricane)** \- They were parked in the back lot of some shitty bar, Dean and whatshername in the front seat, Sam and whatshername’s roommate in the back seat, and the music low. Dean was surprised when Sam actually seemed interested in whatshername’s roommate. He hadn’t looked twice at any tail in months, and it was starting to worry Dean, and make Sammy one hell of a bitch to be around. What had been a good day with an easy hunt, effortlessly turned into an even better night with easy chicks. Dean had the passenger seat pushed all the way back, and whatshername was straddling his lap. He had her blouse unbuttoned enough to get at her tits, had his hands on her ass, guiding her up and down on his very happy dick. It was cramped as hell, but Dean didn’t care. He looked over his shoulder and saw Sam stretched out in the back seat, back up against the door behind the driver seat, and whatshername's roommate riding him hard. Their eyes met, and Dean flashed Sam his “Is this the best fucking shit EVER?” look, and Sam rolled his eyes, but smiled and half chuckled, half moaned as the roommate picked up her pace. He smiled back at Dean, then closed his eyes and came with a low, rumbling growl. Dean laughed and shot his load a heartbeat later.

**Battery** \- Dean had just popped Master of Puppets in the tape deck, he was wiped out and Sam was driving, when a ‘69 GTO went flying past them on the highway. Sam twitched, just barely, and a funny kind of smile spread across his face. Sam floored the Impala, and Dean yelled “Go for it!” but the music was so loud he had no idea if Sam heard him or not. It didn’t matter, because Sam had the Impala coming up fast on the GTO’s ass. Dean rolled his window down all the way, autumn chill filling the car, adrenaline surging through him. The Impala pulled up even with the GTO, and Sam held her there, laying down the challenge. An arm stuck out of the GTO passenger window, giving a thumbs up, and it was on. Dean just sat back and enjoyed the ride and Sam blew the GTO away, cutting in front of him and showing off, letting off steam like Dean had never really seen Sam do before. After the GTO was long gone in their rear view mirror, Dean patted Sam on the shoulder, spilling over with pride, and said, “I taught ya good, Sammy. That was BAD ASS!”

There were more, plenty more. Once or twice Dean had thought about putting them all on a tape, but then he laughed, told himself to stop being such a chick about it, and kicked himself for letting Sammy rub off on him so much.


End file.
